When the Dust Clears
by Nimfalath
Summary: One shot. After the explosion, Mohinder returns to his apartment with Molly, but in the middle of the night a surprising guest appears at his door who desperately needs his help. Mohinder and Sylar. NOT slash.


**Disclaimer: Don't own Heroes, blah blah blah. You know the drill.**

**Author: Nimfalath**

**Setting: Directly after the season one finale, Mohinder's point of view**

**Summary: Bleh, just read the description :P**

**A/N**

**Sooo this is _not_ meant to be slash, but since I can't keep your pervy little minds from imagining it, I guess it will just be whatever you guys want it to be. I just wanted to explore the friendship and emotional relationship of Mohinder and Sylar without the gooey sexuality. So take this however you want, but my original intention was for this to be completely straight and slash-free. :D Enjoy!**

* * *

We sat there, the two of us, watching the ambulance pull away. Even when it had turned the corner beyond our sight we remained motionless, our eyes glued to the spot it had occupied a second before. What now? I looked down at the girl and felt my heart break. Thompson was dead and there was no way I could take her back up to that room. I considered letting the Sanders family take her, but Niki had enough problems right now as it was. Even though we'd reached an agreement, I still didn't trust Bennet entirely. I doubted Molly would have even wanted to go with him. _Besides,_ I reasoned with myself, _she's my responsibility. I'm responsible for her life and I can't just...let her go._ I leaned down and wrapped my arms around the tiny girl's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. She smiled and broke out of it, looking up at me with shining eyes. 

"What are we gonna do now, Dr. Suresh?" she asked me, her eyes meeting mine. I put my hands on her shoulders and smiled back at her.

"How would you like to come back to my apartment?" I asked her. Her smile only grew wider.

"I'd like that," she said simply. Smiling, she took my hand and we began the long walk back to my apartment building. I let my eyes wonder around the plaza a final time. Niki and Micah were locked in an embrace. Bennet and his daughter had just gotten a cab. He opened the door for her with his uninjured arm and then slid in behind her. I turned my gaze to the sky, where only minutes before a man had exploded violently. I'd always considered Nathan to be superficial, but I guess I've been wrong before. I was wrong when I first turned Peter away, wrong when I allowed Sylar to accompany me as I searched for more people on my father's list. I was wrong about Eden. I'd been wrong about a lot of things lately, it seemed. I let my gaze find Molly and I smiled. I wouldn't be wrong about this.

* * *

By the time we reached my apartment it was very late. I pulled out the key and fumbled to unlock the door. Eventually it turned and I swung the door open to reveal my apartment, and I suddenly realized what a mess it was. I hadn't spent much time cleaning it up after Sylar and Peter had fought there. _Well_, I thought, _it could be worse._ I led Molly to my spare room, down the hall and directly across from my own room. She peeked inside every room we passed until we reached it. 

"There," I said, leading her into the space. "This can be your room." Her face lit up and she wondered the tiny room, inspecting every corner. It was nearly empty except for a bed and a few pieces of furniture. I hadn't spent much time trying to re-decorate anything. Finally she returned to my side and grinned.

"I like it," she said, popping onto the bed and bouncing for a few seconds. "Where do _you_ sleep, Dr. Suresh?" I gestured to the door across the hall.

"My room is right there," I told her. "If you need anything I'll be just across the hall." She beamed and stood up, looking around her own room a second time. I suddenly realized how thirsty I was. "Would you like something to drink, Molly?" I asked, making my way to the kitchen.

"Yeah," she returned, following me closely. I couldn't help but feel like I was doing something wrong. I'd never been particularly good with children, and never really had one living with me. I instincively turned to my teapot, but caught myself. I didn't need any caffeine, and Molly certainly didn't either. I brought two glasses down from the cabinet and filled them with cool tap water instead. I set a glass on the table in front of me where Molly had pulled up a chair. I pulled one out across from her and sat down, taking a long drink out of my glass. I savored every drop of liquid that poured down my parched throat. Molly sipped some water and looked around my disastrous living room. "What happend?" she giggled, noticing the broken glass and smashed book case.

"Well," I kind of laughed myself. "The boogeyman was here." Her tiny smile vanished the second that word escaped my mouth. She suddenly froze, her body stiffened. I was kind of surprised about her reaction. I mean, Sylar had been killed. We had both seen it. "Molly," I set down my glass and rested my elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly, "the boogeyman is dead." She remained in her petrified state. Suddenly I felt my insides melt. Maybe I was wrong to bring her here...I knew nothing about children and..._Now I've upset her_. I didn't know how else to comfort her, so I kept insisting that Sylar was dead. "He can't hurt you any more," I assured her. "He's gone." Gradually she came back to life and the color returned to her cheeks, but the fear never left her eyes. She blinked suddenly and her gaze met mine.

"How can you know for sure?" she whispered, the terror gripping at her throat. I stood and walked around to her side, kneeling beside her. I picked up her tiny hands and held them tight.

"Molly," I said, my eyes never leaving hers, "I promised to keep you safe. You don't have to be afraid anymore." I heard the breath escape her and she flung her arms around my neck, nearly choking me in the tight hug. I returned the embrace, holding her tight against my chest. I felt her breath against my ear and smiled. I let the tiny thing cling to me for what seemed like forever. Finally I stood, taking her with me, and returned to the spare room down the hall. I set her gently down on the bed and smiled warmly at her.

"You need to get ready for bed," I told her. "It's getting late." She giggled.

"I don't have any pj's," she told me matter-of-factly, "or a toothbrush." I laughed and made a mental note to stop by the store the next day. I thought for a moment before walking across the hall, returning with one of my shirts.

"You can sleep in _my_ clothes," I told her, setting the thing on her bed. "We'll get you some real pj's tomorrow." She smiled and I left the room, giving her a little privacy to change. I noted that I probably should have gone back and gotten some things from the building, but that couldn't be helped now. At length the door opened and I laughed out loud when I saw her tiny form standing in the doorway wrapped in my oversized shirt. She giggled with me, and I scooped her up and set her on the bed. She crawled under the covers and I tucked her in tight. Her tiny hand reached out for mind and I took it, sitting beside her bed.

"You're right across the hall?" she wondered, a hint of fear left in her eyes.

"Right across the hall," I assured her. She nodded and let my hand go. I slowly stood and walked to the frame of the door, stopping there for a moment before turning out the light.

"Thanks, Dr. Suresh," I heard her tiny voice through the darkness. I smiled softly as I stepped out of her room.

"It's Mohinder," I told her. "Call me Mohinder."

I allowed the door to stay open a crack, letting some light spill into her room. I left the kitchen light on and stepped into my own room, leaving my door open so I could see Molly's. I smiled to myself as I pulled off my shirt and flung it onto the floor somewhere. I shut out my light and crawled into my own bed, letting the darkness and silence lull me to sleep. I breathed in the cool air and felt the cool sheets against my skin relax me, calm me down. Finally I drifted off into sleep, leaving the troubles and events of the day behind.

* * *

I moaned. Suddenly I shot up, taking a cursory glance at the clock before turning to watch Molly's door across the hall. Her door was the same, still open to the same degree, the trail of light leading a path to her bed. I breathed heavily and sighed, leaning back a little into my damp sheets. I rubbed my eyes. _2:00 in the morning?!_ I hadn't had a dream or any sort of nightmare. I tried to recall what had woken me up. I wasn't sure. It was probably nothing, I might have just woken up on my own. At that point, though, I was fully awake, so I pushed my sheets aside and stepped out of my bed, the cold floor soothing against my hot feet. 

I wandered the apartment, finding my way to the front room where the kitchen light was shining bright, casting weird shadows across the floor. I cleared a spot on the couch and sat down, wiping the sweat from my eyes. It was nothing. I'd been imagining things.

Suddenly, as if to prove me wrong, I heard a sharp bang at my door. I stood, startled, and cautiously moved toward it. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but anything seemed possible nowadays so I proceded with as much caution as I could muster. I unlocked the door, taking a breath before I opened it. Whatever I'd been expecting, it was not what I saw. My heart exploded and my eyes grew wide with terror. I slammed the door shut tightly and locked it as fast as I could. My entire body shook uncontrollably and I forced my back against the door.

"Sylar..."

I whispered his name between pants, as if saying it made it more real. His body had been strewn across the entrance to my apartment, and though it had been motionless it still sent chills through my body thinking about it. Sylar was outside my door...he was alive...

I stood there for ages, too afraid to do anything else. I kept expecting the locks to unlock themselves, the door to swing open on its own. At length I pulled my back off the door and turned to face it, a little confused. If Sylar wanted in so badly, he would have let himself in easily by now. I turned my locks and pulled the door open a sliver, just enough to gaze through the crack at the man. It was strange seeing him lying there. Any coldness that had once graced his face was gone. He'd left a trail of blood where he'd walked, and now the pathetic thing was lying in a puddle of his own blood. He was pale, and the smell that came off him was revolting. I pushed past the urge to gag and looked into his face. It was turned toward me, and for some reason it touched a nerve somewhere. He looked so helpless...I was used to seeing such a confident Sylar, but now he was a lifeless heap at my door, his body and spirit broken. His face was soft, more like what I'd seen when he was Zane and yet something entirely different. I couldn't help but feel some sympathy for him. I opened the door a little more, even though a part of me screamed to shut it fast, to leave him there to die. It was miraculous to me. How had he survived? I told myself that the katana had probably missed all of his vital organs...he was lucky. A question suddenly burned in my mind. I opened the door fully, taking a step toward him. I glanced back at Molly's room. I could barely see the sliver of her slightly opened door. I took a deep breath and made a decision. I had to help him.

I pulled his body across the floor to the couch, internally shouting at myself the whole time for helping my father's killer and Molly's boogeyman. Every step that I struggled to haul his dead weight I questioned myself, trying to find the answer that I knew I didn't have. I didn't have a reason for helping him. I just...was. I lifted his limp body onto my couch, running back to shut and lock my front door. I noticed the large stains of blood in the hall, but that would have to wait. I would clean it up later. I considered pulling out that IV of curare again, to paralyze his mind, but I reasoned that if he didn't have enough strength to break into my apartment then he wouldn't have enough strength to pull off anything too terrible. At least, not at the moment. The critical thing now was saving his life. I pulled off his black jacket and threw it onto the floor behind me. It was easy find his wound, and I ripped the hole in his shirt larger so I could see inside it.

It wasn't as bad as I'd expected it to be, but that didn't make the wound any less terrible. After assuring that no vital organs had been harmed, I decided that the most immediate threat was blood loss. I pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it by his jacket. His clothes were disgusting...he was disgusting. I couldn't describe the foul odor. Had he been in the sewer? I pulled off his shoes and socks and threw them at the wall as far away from me as I could. I ran into the kitchen and pulled out two towels, grabbing also my glass of water that I'd left sitting on the table. Returning to Sylar's side I poured the water through the wound in an effort to flush out as much infection as possible. If he _had_ been in the sewer there was no doubt the wound would get infected. He writhed a little as the fluid spilled over his body and onto my destroyed couch. I poured a little more onto one of the towels and used it to wipe the smeared blood from his nose and mouth. When I'd finished I set the empty glass on the floor beside my feet and firmly pressed the towels on either side of his wound, pushing them hard against his skin. His eyelids fluttered for a moment and my heart skipped a beat, but he was soon just as motionless as he had been before.

For the longest time I sat there alone by his side, my hands doing their best to stop the blood from escaping his body. There wasn't a clock in the room, so in the absence of time I continued to sit, staring down at his lifeless face. It suddenly bothered me. I guess it had been bothering me the whole time, but I hadn't paid much attention to the thought until now. Why, of all the places he could have gone, did he come to my door? I didn't know Sylar, didn't know who he knew or what he could have done, but I felt certain that there would have been a better place for him to run to. I had tried to kill him, betrayed him and put him through so much pain. He killed my father, used me to point the way to more victims. I was nothing to him, just a tool and a traitor. And then...why had I saved him? He was nothing more than a parasite, feeding off the work of others and ending the lives of innocent people for his own gain. What made me bring him inside?

I wiped my damp forehead, momentarily releasing the pressure on his abdomen. I lifted the crimson rag and saw that the blood had slowed considerably. I allowed his body to roll onto its back, pulling the towels out of the spots I'd held them for so long. His breathing seemed regular enough, and though he had no more color in his face than he had before I felt that he'd improved a little. I stood and threw the towels into the trash, knowing full well that I would never get the stains out. I walked into my room and dug through a few drawers before finding my first-aid kit. It was pathetic, but I couldn't take him to a hospital so it would have to do. _He's Sylar_, I told myself. _He'll pull through regardless._ On my way out I grabbed the bag of curare I'd placed on a shelf, taking it with me just in case. I gently shut Molly's door, closing it tightly. I wasn't sure how she'd react in the morning. I decided to push that thought aside. _I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, _I told myself, leaving the notion behind. I returned to Sylar's side and pulled one of the kitchen chairs into the living room, placing it by the couch in front of Sylar's stomach. I sat down and poured as much disinfectant as I had into a fresh rag, rubbing it into the wound. There was a strange convulsion on Sylar's unconscious face, but it didn't wake him and his body remained stationary. I really didn't know what I was doing...I was a doctor, but I didn't know how to treat anything to this extent. I prayed that I was doing something right and continued to clean the open wound.

I could tell it was getting early, even without clocks in the room. I yawned tiredly. Lying there like he was, Sylar reminded me a lot of the way he'd been when I'd first met him. He'd called himslef "Zane" back then. He was charming and very well-mannered. Nothing like Sylar. We had traveled together for a long time, became such good friends. I'd confided in him, just like he told me my father had confided in him. We shared secrets and laughs, ambitions and fears. "Zane Taylor" was quite possibly the best friend I'd ever had.

_Maybe that's why I want to save him_, I found myself thinking. _Maybe I hope there's still a bit of Zane left in him._ I wondered what the real Zane was like. I would never know, Sylar had killed him moments before I came to his door. I was a fool to believe him...or maybe Sylar was just really good at pretending. Who wouldn't have believed him? I shuddered thinking about what he'd probably done to get into Zane's house. It gave me chills to think of what Sylar had done.

We'd really gotten to know each other. I wondered how much of it had been fake. Maybe none of it was real...none of the conversations, none of the gestures. Something in me wanted to believe that a part of the Zane I knew was real, that a part of Zane Taylor was still inside the monster resting on my couch. I blinked wearily and noticed my stained hands. _I'll have a fantastic time explaining that to Molly_. I looked out the window and saw a bit of color in the dark sky. It would be daylight soon.

I jumped when I heard a sputtering cough erupt from beneath me, and turned sharply to see a dazed Sylar begin to sit up. My heart soared into my throat, beating furiously as I caught my breath. As if he'd sensed it, the man quickly looked at me, his chest heaving with every deep intake of breath.

"Mohinder..." Was that fear in his voice? His pale face looked deathly and tiny beads of sweat dripped down his body. I tried to stay calm, but I suddenly found myself questioning my sanity for bringing this beast into my home. I glanced down at the curare pack at my feet, but I knew it was too late now that he was awake. I looked instead into his face, identifying the uncertainty in his eyes. He was unshaven and still smelled of rotting waste, but there was something in his face that seemed...human.

For a while we sat in silence, staring at each other. The stillness was almost suffocating, enveloping the entire room. At length he drew his eyes away from mine and reclined onto his back, shutting his eyes and taking a few deep breaths through his nose.

"I thought I was dead," he said, his eyes still closed.

"You should have been," I replied, without much more to say. His eyelids opened and his deep brown eyes found their way to mine. He stared at me for a few moments before he spoke.

"Why...did you save me?"

"Why did you come to me?" I retorted.

Sylar laughed softly and pressed his hand against the gauze that I'd taped over his injury. "You're the only one I trust, Mohinder." I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face.

"You trust me? Sylar, I-"

"Gabriel."

It was so sudden and forceful that I had to stop. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Excuse me?"

"My name," he chuckled. "It's Gabriel."

Suddenly it didn't matter why I'd saved him. I knew I would never have that old friend back, but it became clear that it hadn't _all_ been a game to him. Something inside Zane had been real, and that part of Sylar was now smiling up at me. He wasn't Sylar anymore, but then he wasn't completely Zane either. The man lying broken on my couch was someone entirely different. Gabriel.

"I smell like shit," he mused, his brows furrowed. I laughed, nodding in full agreement. "Do you have a shower?"

"Down the hall to the right," I directed him, pointing at the bathroom door. I could hardly believe he had the strength to stand after all he'd been through. "When you're finished," I called after him as he disappeared into the room, "I'll get you a change of clothes." I paused and added, "And then I'm going to have to stitch you up."

"Thanks," I heard his voice call. I heard something stir in Molly's room and stood to walk toward her. I knew that keeping Sylar and Molly together wouldn't be a good idea, but Gabriel...Gabriel and Molly could get along very well...


End file.
